(Arcane Tinker) Chapter 5: Leaves and Flyers

Chapter 5: Leaves and Flyers

5 June 1991, London, England

The trip to the orphanage was a very quick one. The bureaucrat woman, Dean actually forgot her name, made sure that he wasn’t hurt, and the healers discharged him without a care to the world.

He was quickly taken to the public floo exit, and the woman handed him some floo powder with a condescending smile, “Alright, this right here is a floo. It’s part of a network of fireplaces all over Britain that allow you to transport yourself between them. Now, first things first, you need to figure out if the floo node is an entrance or an exit one. There’s always a small label on the side of the fireplace, to make sure. You do not want to stand near an arrival floo and end up being trampled by someone. However, even if you arrive at the same spot, you will land on the other node, so keep that in mind. Anyway, public places in the wizarding world, anywhere that has more than a couple of magical families living, will most probably have one of each node, but homes only have entrance nodes installed for safety reasons, so you need to take that into account when you use them.”

“So, we can leave through the fireplace but not come back?” Dean asked. It was kind of a pretty useless product, to only have a one-way ride with no direct way back home.

“Don’t worry, there are floo nodes near any wizarding residence, and you can request to have one put in place if there are at least three magical residences in your area that aren’t near a public floo. It’s a bit of a hassle, but it is possible. A century ago, the ministry tried to allow arrival nodes to be put in magical homes, and that led to a very high number of break-ins until the bill was discontinued. Even with the protections the ministry put in place, people kept finding a way to circumvent them.”

“Stop it with the history lesson, lady,” a male voice behind him exclaimed, “We want to go home.”

The woman flushed, “Sorry, we’ll be done in a minute,” she then turned towards Dean, “Now, I want you to stand in front of the fireplace and put a Knut, that’s the bronze coin, on the platform on the right.”

He did so, and the bronze coin disappeared, and instead there was a pot with some black powder in it. He grabbed the powder, and the pot disappeared.

Dean turned to her, and she gave him an approving nod. “Now, stand in the fireplace, and repeat after me, Willowbrook Village. Make sure that you pronounce it clearly. Now, after you do that, throw the powder into the ground. Close your eyes, it’s a bit less stressful this way.”

Dean stood in the fireplace, closed his eyes and yelled, “Willowbrook Village!” before throwing the powder to the ground. He felt some slight pressure around him, and he couldn’t breathe for a fraction of a second before everything returned to normal. He opened his eyes and noticed that he was in some kind of inn.

He walked forward, feeling his body shaking, and murmured to himself, “That was intense.”

A kindly looking woman gave him a warm smile, “First time using the floo, huh. Don’t worry, it gets easier over time, and it’s very useful.”

A familiar voice came up behind him, “Ah, Mr. Thomas. I see you’ve met Mrs. Jones. She’s one of the matrons in your orphanage. Kara, this is Dean Thomas, your new ward. Alright, I’m already late for a meeting, so I’ll leave you be. Kara, please make sure to have all the paperwork ready and send it by owl to me by tonight.”

And without saying a word, the woman just apparated away. The matron rolled her eyes, “Don’t worry, she’s always been like that. Anyway, I’m Kara Jones, and I’ll be one of the matrons at the orphanage. I know it sounds daunting and everything, but it’s not nearly as bad as people make it seem, and from what I gather, you’re bound to spend most of your time in Hogwarts anyway. Now, this is a little inn that one of our graduates made to give us better access to the rest of magical Britain. The orphanage itself is right outside. Let me show you. Try to remember the way in case you need to go to Diagon Alley or the Hogwarts Express Station in London. I’ll probably won’t have the time to show you around the village, but if you get lost, ask anyone in the village and they’ll show you the way back to the orphanage.

Dean simply nodded, not really saying anything and followed her around. The inn was quaint, with magical trinkets lining the shelves and a warm, inviting atmosphere. Mrs. Jones led him through a small courtyard where enchanted plants hummed softly, their leaves glowing faintly in the dim light. They looked fascinating, and he felt the urge to draw them.

As they stepped outside, Dean’s eyes widened at the sight of the orphanage. It was an old, somewhat run-down building with ivy crawling up its stone walls. It had probably more in common with a small castle than a normal building. “This is your new home,” Kara said, “Let’s get you settled in and then go over the basics.”

Dean followed Kara through the large wooden doors and looked around.  The orphanage was modest. The hallways were plain, with a few portraits of past headmasters and matrons who barely seemed to move.

Kara led Dean to a common room that was sparsely furnished with a few comfortable chairs that a few teenagers were talking to each other at, and an old fireplace that crackled faintly with magical flames.

She looked at Dean, giving him a very serious look, “That’s the common room. It’s rarely empty, so you can ask some of the older kids for help if you’re missing something. Now, first things first. We have a strict curfew. Everyone needs to be in their rooms by 9 at night. No exceptions. Quiet hours are from eight at night to seven in the morning. If you’re caught out of bed or making too much noise, you will be punished. The punishments often range from not being allowed to leave the premises for some time, losing your weekly allowance, and so on. It will depend on my mood and what you do.”

The young man was weirded out by the complete change in tone. Gone was the warm matron, and instead, a severe woman stood in her place. Dean instinctively straightened up under her gaze, unsure if he was supposed to salute or something. “Understood,” he muttered.

Kara gave him a curt nod, then immediately softened, her lips curling into a more relaxed smile. “Good. Don’t worry, I’m not a tyrant. I just don’t tolerate chaos. Things run smoothly when everyone does their part. Do you have any questions?”

“Do we get an allowance?” Dean asked.

“Yes, every Monday morning, around three sickles a week, that’s the silver coins. You can ask around to understand how much that’s worth. The orphanage is also responsible for paying for your bare school supplies, including your wand, schoolbooks and robes, but I really suggest saving up your money in case you want to get a pet or something extra. Now, we also have strict mealtimes. Breakfast is from seven to nine in the morning, lunch is noon to one, and dinner is from six to eight at night. If you miss a meal, then you’ll either have to figure something out yourself or not eat at all.”

Dean nodded, absorbing the information. “Got it,” he said softly.

“One last thing, and it’s the most important part. You’re not allowed to use any magic outside the property boundaries. I know that most of the residents are wizards and witches, but until your majority, any magic, with a wand or without, is only allowed in certain authorised locations. Adult wizards and witches are expected to have control over their magic and have learned to be subtle. They face actual criminal consequences for being caught while using magic; you, as a minor, have a certain amount of leeway. But if you do use magic outside the boundary, it will be put in your file, and believe me, you will not like the consequences of something like that. So, just don’t use any magic outside the property and you’ll be fine.”

Dean nodded again, feeling the weight of the rules settle in. Kara gave a brief, warm smile. “Alright then, that’s about it. You’ll get used to it here. Now, let’s head to your room and get you settled in. We’ve already put your clothes there, and I’ll ask one of my charges to take you to your storage room tomorrow morning. Here’s your key. I’m the only one who has another copy, so try not to lose it.”

She motioned towards one of the older kids, who rolled his eyes and walked towards him, “Jacob, this is our new resident, Dean Thomas. Dean, this is Jacob McKinnon, one of our oldest residents. Jacob, why don’t you show him around the common room, introduce him, and take him to dinner afterwards?”

She didn’t even wait for a response before leaving, “Huh, so you’re the new guy. Like the hag said, I’m Jacob, but I prefer Jack, far less stuffy this way.”

“The hag?” Dean asked, “Isn’t that a bit rude?”

“Believe me, you’re still new. Wait a few weeks and you’ll see. So, what do I call you?”

Dean decided to ignore that. He didn’t know Kara, not really, and she did look pretty serious when it came to breaking the rules. He decided to reserve his judgement for now. Instead, he said, “I’m Dean. Dean Thomas. You’re one of the oldest residents here?”

“Huh, and don’t I know it. Been here since I was seven. One of the oldest magical activations in history, they say. It was almost a guarantee that I would be a wizard, since my parents both had magic. What about you?”

“I never met my father, my mother didn’t have magic, I think. She just died a few days ago.”

“Oh, your magical activation?” the older boy spoke up with a weird look in his eyes.

“How did you know?”

“Oh, it’s not really something we like to talk about. When we get our magic, there’s always a price to it. It’s triggered by some form of trauma. The older your magical ancestry, the less intense the trauma needs to be. Muggleborns, like you, usually go through something pretty rough.”

Dean’s eyes widened, and he murmured to himself in a contemplative tone, “So, that’s why…”

“Yeah,” Jack nodded. “Your magic was activated by your mother’s death. It’s rough, but that’s how it works. It happens in a moment when you feel like you have nothing to lose, when you feel truly alone, like a bit of yourself breaks inside. That’s when the magic finds its way out. You seem pretty stable, though. Most muggleborns have a bit of a rough time adjusting, you know? There’s a stigma. people think we’re unstable because of how violently our magic gets activated.”

Dean absorbed this information, feeling a mix of sorrow and a strange sense of understanding. “I didn’t know. I thought it was just me.”

“Nope, not just you. Everyone here has gone through something. It’s a moment of sheer desperation when the world feels like it’s crumbling around you. For some, it’s the loss of a loved one, like you. For others, it might be a moment of intense fear or betrayal. But we all have that breaking point, and that’s when our magic awakens. It’s like a raw, uncontrolled surge that forces its way out because there’s nothing left to hold it back.”

Dean felt a shiver run down his spine as Jack spoke, his words painting a vivid picture of that terrifying moment. He recalled the crushing weight of grief when his mother died, the hollow emptiness that followed, the sheer terror at dying, unremarkable, unremembered, and the sudden, explosive surge of power he couldn’t control.

“Everyone here has gone through it,” Jack continued. “Mine happened when my foster father hit me. I knocked him out using this.”

He punched the air, and a gust of wind hit one of the chairs, turning it over. He heard a high-pitched yell, “What the hell? Jack, I swear if that’s you…”

A black-haired girl jumped up, with a furious look on her face. She waved her hand at one of the bowls and threw it at them. Dean instinctively ducked, and Jack punched the air, breaking the bowl once more.

The girl had calmed down slightly, but held a sneering expression on her face, “You’re an arse, Jack,” before she turned towards Dean with a questioning look, “I’m guessing that’s the new guy.”

“Ah, yes. Lisa, meet Dean Thomas. Dean, meet Lisa Turpin. She’ll be going to Hogwarts with you in a couple of months. Isn’t that exciting?”

Dean would have shaken her hand if he wasn’t too occupied freaking out when he read the cover of the book that she had picked up from the ground, ‘Neville Longbottom and the Dragon of Destiny’.

What the actual fuck.

AN: So, I went the Neville BWL route again, even without the SI being Harry. It opens a lot of doors for me in the future, so I decided to go for it. I’m not sure about the matron’s portrayal, though. I wanted her to be kind, but severe and somewhat detached. I’m not sure I pulled it off, but I don’t mind rewriting it depending on your feedback. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.